#flash fiction

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Pursue the art

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial using the prompt #FFF368 ~ spectrum of chaos. According to the historians, Oniyasha, or Zeami, the founder of Noh Theater, and Yoshimitsu, the third shogun of Ashikaga, had a sexual relationship after meeting as teenagers in the 14th century. This resulted in the shogun’s continued patronage to Zeami’s art, the Noh. This has been touched but not pursued in “World of Dancing” manga. Not sure about the anime version though. Today. August 8th, is Zeami’s death anniversary.

—

Fandom: World is Dancing (anime & manga)

Characters: Oniyasha (Zeami), Yoshimitsu (the third Ashikaga Shogun), mention of Kan’ami

Word count: 525

Rating : Implied underage sex

“How far are you going for your art?”

Kan’ami’s words ring from miles away as Oniyasha stands in front of the shogun, Yoshimitsu of Ashikaga. The military dictator has turned 18 a fortnight ago. The 13-year-old boy, however, prepares to demonstrate his new program for Yoshimitsu.

The youthful general lies on his side watching the dancer. He has requested for his audience after coming back from the grueling negotiation with the Southern court together with his advisers that hasn’t born one single fruit.

Old men trashed each other. Words wasted from deaf ears. Yoshimitsu could only roll his eyes as their saliva filled the room. A spectrum of chaos. He was tired and he wanted to go home. He longed to be in Sanjo Bomon and his wives after not seeing them for two weeks. He even celebrated his birthday on the road adding to his misery.

“We are not going anywhere, Yoriyuki. It is time to leave,” he told his prime adviser.

Thus remained a status quo between the two courts. How Yoshimitsu thirsted for something that would bewitch his eyes and console his soul.

The moment he stepped on the grounds of his residence his first order fresh from his coitus with his first wife, Noriko, is to see his “flower.” Oniyasha can smell the scent of sex reeking from the shogun’s skin.

“What are you going to show me this time?” Yoshimitsu asks, his open robe exposed his chest, sweat has dried. His black hair is loose reaching his shoulder blades. It takes longer to grow it since reaching his 15th year.

“Are you ready, Milord?”

“Waiting for you…” he inches closer. His manservant Hijiri is nowhere to be found. It is only the two of them in his private chamber.

The boy is only wearing his hakama after Yoshimitsu’s men have roused him from his sleep.

He begins with a few small steps, performing a suriashi, an act where he slides his feet without even lifting them up from the floor.

Then he bends his knees, so subtle that he can see Yoshimitsu tries to reach the soles of his feet.

When Oniyasha sings, his voice relays this mournful message that tugs the shogun’s heart.

What is this?

After he finishes the first stanza he stamps his foot on the floor vibrating sending shivers to his spine.

Oniyasha has grown two Sun ever since taking residence in Sanjo Bomon leaving the comforts of his home, leaving his father Kan’ami. After all, artists follow their dreams, their art.

And this boy has plenty of those, who’s determined to nurture them, perfecting that one flower that will not wilt.

Yoshimitsu finally gets to stroke the boy’s leg as Oniyasha does the kamae. He kneads the calf’s muscles while he reaches for his crotch.

A strangled moan is heard from above and the boy has creased moving.

“D-dance… please don’t stop…” Yoshimitsu implores the young dancer.

The boy begins to sway again his waist.

“Come here…”

“Milord…”

The Kanze actor cannot do anything but obey the young shogun, whose arms envelop his legs relishing them with kisses.

What does one do for his art.

~ fin ~

[honknhollr]

*THIS*

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Word Count: 393

Genre: Just my silliness

Triggers: Does writer's block count?

*THIS*

This.

Yes, *This*.

It's what I'm doing right now. Not your right now, dear reader, but my right now.

Only moments ago, *This* wasn't here.

There was no concept of what *This* would become.

Nevertheless, *This* was started.

Became *This*.

Became? Became what?

Now we are equals.

I don't know yet. And neither do you.

But as the clickity-clack of the QWERTY mimics the nervous gnashing of teeth, you and I can discover it together.

*This* could have started with 'Once upon a time', but I know that would be too cutesy for my dear reader.

This could have started with 'It was a dark and stormy night... ', but the rules of this game have a limit to how many QWERTY conjoined bits and bobs *This* can contain.

But I do know that *This* started with a spark.

A simple spark that appeared at 3:02am.

Moreover, the spark tasks me.

The challenge is accepted gracefully.

However, now... *This* has taken life, but not form.

*This* now sits as a twinkling black '|' on an image facsimile of a white sheet of paper taunting me to tap a QWERTY bit.

Well, a few hundred QWERTY bits ago, it stayed that way for what felt like an eternity.

Here's the amazing thing - *This* morphed and twisted many times.

At one point, *This* was going to be a keen huntress in a dystopian future named Lena who was also being stalked by her old therapist who had her committed before the fall of society.

I thought, no *That* would have been too big for *This*.

Then *This* was going to be Rennie while he was back in Australia running his Outback Adventure tour company before he met Foxxfyrre.

Then *This* was going to be a dark poem about a broken heart that refuses to bleed.

But none of those *This*s fit the bill.  

So for *This*, the butterfly not only needs to flap its wing and cause a tornado in Tokyo, but it also has to fart simultaneously. Or would that bring on the apocalypse?

I don't think they make Beano for butterflies.

So, dear reader. We are now up to date; you know as much about *This* as I do.

One thing I do know is this, on some level, gauge, gradient, or spectrum *This* is chaos.

But I do love doing *This*, tornados and all.

Now, where did that flutterby go?

TTFN

Frank aka Foxxfyrre

[betweenthetimeandsound]

--prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial

As soon as the lightning severed the tree's trunk like a body accepting surrender, I didn't sleep well enough to dream.

Instead, every night, I opened one eye as I sought out the moon for guidance. If she had an eye towards the wayward and the insane, then she would offer her graces to me, the one who would wander out at after hours to make sense of the pavement underneath me. Instead, the clouds obscured even the milkiest full moon; from which I could only decipher where the light would radiate.

I wanted to imagine myself on a lonely raft heading out to sea; abandoned by the kingdom as well as my family, but stable enough to find my way to land when the sun rises. Lying out on the sea, with only a few supplies and clothes which needed to be clean, would give me the peace which my heart refused to give me.

When the morning came, with smoke mutating the sun into a bleeding orifice, I wavered between the conscious and the unconscious world just enough to take note.

It was only when the holy fire started burning in the villa from which I started to wake up.

***

Glistening flames lapped from outside my window, though not high enough to catch me from my bedroom window. The vision intrigued me at first, with its ribbons mocking me from the dried grasslands below. Yellow and orange, yellow and orange..

"What are you doing, girl? The house is on fire!"

I knew the obvious. I knew I had to rescue the rare flowers from the greenhouse, with their dainty petals and their vitalizing nectar.

And yet, the chaos draws me back in.

[improbablescience]

Golden Apple

Flash fiction for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt FFF368 Spectrum of Chaos

Fandom: Legend of Zelda

Words: 973

Rating: General Audiences

Link & Zelda's moms bring their two little kids out on a play date to wear them out.

(This one turned out more cute than chaos but I'm tired so you get what you get!)

"This park playdate was such a good idea. I think the kids might actually sleep well tonight."   The adults looked fondly at their little ones. The children had paused in their running around the park to admire an apple tree. The little girl was holding the little boy's arm and pointing excitedly up into the branches. Above them was a perfect golden apple, shining in the late afternoon light.   "I'll be glad if Zelda gets some sleep tonight, poor girl's been waking up with nightmares lately."   "Oh no, Link too. He's not super verbal yet so we never get much story out of him but I'm wondering if his da told him a hero story that was a bit too scary or something. He loves those old tales."   From over by the apple tree came a yell, and two adults turned their eyes from each other to the tree. Link had apparently launched himself at the apple tree and was attempting to chop it down with his toy sword. Little Zelda was clearly attempting to stop her new playmate but having no luck.   "Link! No damaging the tree," called his mother. She sighed and turned back to her adult companion. "Poor kid, it's hard to be that short, but no need to take it out on the tree."   "It's a hard age. Zelda's determined to do everything too. She's decided she wants to read and she's good enough at memorising some books but sometimes she just makes stuff up and gets mad if you tell her the words are different."

Zelda, apparently done castigating Link for his arboreal crimes, seemed to have moved on to explaining a new plan to him. Their mothers watched as Link nodded then tried to lift Zelda up. She reached her tiny hands into the air but the apple was still very far out of reach. Undaunted, she said something to Link and they switched places, with her lifting him. While she was nearly a head taller, she couldn’t lift him very far and they were still woefully short of their goal. Link squirmed and flailed, trying to reach higher, and eventually Zelda lost her balance and the the two kids fell over into a pile of limbs.

Both parents winced, but the kids merely giggled and picked themselves back up.

“I wish Link would show more interest in reading. He loves stories but I think he likes it better when someone’s telling them.”

“I wouldn’t worry, he’s young yet, he’ll get interested eventually!”

“Hey, maybe if it’s rainy sometime we could meet at the library? If he saw Zelda reading maybe it’ll get him competitive enough to try it himself…”

Undaunted by their failure, the kids seemed to have concocted a new plan. Zelda boosted Link up onto the tree trunk, then used her slight height advantage to shove his little rump as high as she could. It still wasn’t very high, but it was certainly higher than he could have managed on his own.

“Uhh, should we be concerned about…”

“Oh, don’t worry, he doesn’t have the stamina for that to get dangerous.”

Sure enough, Link’s chubby little arms gave out a moment later and he slid ungracefully down the tree trunk, Zelda helping to slow his fall. She wrapped her own little arms around him in a hug, clearly concerned that he’d gotten hurt.

“Awwww,” declared the two mothers in unison.

The kids looked over and gave the mothers nearly identical looks of disgust before they turned to walking around under the tree. Link managed to find a branch and was excitedly waving it in the direction of the apple. It still wasn’t high enough to reach. He wound up and threw it, missing the apple. Zelda handed him another branch, then another, but none were long enough and when he finally hit the apple with a throw it wasn’t enough to make it fall. Zelda grabbed his arm and said something.

“Should we go help them?” “Nah, they seem to be playing well together. So, tell me what happened after you…”

Zelda and Link were now running around the area, building a small pile of sticks and weeds under the tere. Link was gesturing as if he was ready to try throwing some of them but Zelda was shaking her head and pushing on his shoulder to get him to sit down.

“Hah, sorry about my bossy kid.”

“Honestly I think he likes it when other kids come up with a plan,” came the reply with a laugh.

Within a few minutes, Zelda had Link holding a handful of weeds while she braided them together. She spent a bit of time clearly teaching him how to braid, and then seemed to be telling him a story while he watched her hands move.

Their parents had turned their attention to gossip now that the kids had gotten quiet. “Did you really say that? I would never have the guts! So what happened next…?”

The story was interrupted by excited children’s voices from under the apple tree. Link was holding a ridiculously long set of sticks, now tied together with braided grasses. The stick-contraption was long enough to tap the apple. Zelda was standing underneath, her skirts held at the ready, when Link finally managed to jostle it free. The two kids let out a huge cheer and ran over with their prize.

“Mama, look, we got it!”

“You certainly did, little bird. Are you two going to share it?”

“Uh huh. Link, let’s go eat under the tree! I bet it’s delicious!”

Zelda ran off, golden apple in one hand and Link’s hand in the other.

“Aww, they did it. Those two are going to be menaces when they’re older, aren’t they?”

“Hah, yeah. Put those two together and nothing is going to stop them.”

[dnschmidt]

The Food Recycler

Hank zapped the compost pile with their ray gun, transforming it into fresh vegetables. "Fantastic! Our new creation works brilliantly!"

"We'll be rich!" Sue said, bouncing on her heels.

"We? Actually, I think I'll keep the money for myself." He turned, aiming at her head.

"I trusted you!" she gasped. "How could you beet ray me?"

[stegmessenger]

MEILLAND : chronique d'un village qui survit dans l'été sans fin.

N°1-- Je m'appelle Théo, on m'a confié les cahiers de Meilland. J'y note les récoltes, les naissances, les départs, les morts. J'y ajoute aussi ce que nous risquons d'oublier.

Meilland: Chronicles of a village surviving the endless summer.

No. 1 — My name is Théo, and I was entrusted with the Meilland notebooks. In them, I log the harvests, the births, the departures, and the deaths. I also add what we risk forgetting.

[dnschmidt]

The page's question

Late one evening, after knight school, a page came to Sir Eric with a question. “With dragons constantly stealing princesses, how does the kingdom never run out?”

“Activist witches keep the species from going extinct,” the knight said. "Always talking about the environment and species diversity and whatnot."

The page frowned. “Wait, what? Activist… witches?”

“You know, witches? Flying brooms, cursed fruit? Don’t interrupt!” He stroked his mustache, huffing. “The witches place enchanted frogs in the forest. When people pass by, the frogs claim to be cursed princesses who can be returned to human form with a kiss, but if you fall for it, you’re the one who gets transformed into a princess, not them! Dastardly trick, eh?”

The page looked up at him, eyes wide. “That sounds incredibly dangerous. Where are these frogs and what do they look like? …Just so I can steer clear of them, of course. To be safer, you should probably draw me a map.”

[runofthemillwill]

A lil spooky for your day today ^_^